


Down

by bessemerprocess



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Cunnilingus, F/M, Handcuffs, Plot What Plot, Ribbon Bondage, shifting power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:04:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessemerprocess/pseuds/bessemerprocess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marshall sometimes has interesting ideas about taking care of his partner. Still, he is pretty successful at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down

Marshall can see Mary’s blaming herself. She can’t sit still. She can’t concentrate, and so the third time she interrupts him, he says, “Let’s go.”

“I still have to finish this,” she says, voice full of irritation.

“Mary.”

“Fine,” she says with a huff.

They gather their things and he follows her to the elevator.

Between them, they have a thousand unspoken rules, but he leans down and kisses her right there in the office anyway. For a moment he thinks she’s going to push him away, that she’s going to fight him. They have nights like that, when the sex is more like a street fight than anything else. She doesn’t flip them around or fight to have the upper hand in the kiss. Instead, she closes her eyes and follow where he leads.

“You going to be a good girl?” he asks in a tone guaranteed to get him slapped if this isn’t what he thinks it is, but all Mary does is nod.

“Okay, but I don’t quite trust you. Hand me your coat,” he orders and she obeys.

Stan is gone and the building is mostly empty, so Marshall decides to play dangerously. “Turn around,” he whispers to her. She looks surprised, but she complies without questioning.

Her shoulders tense as the first cuffs go on.

“Marshall,” she asks more than says.

He tightens the second cuff anyway, and then settled his own coat over her shoulders. It’s long enough to hide the cuffs from any cursory glances.

The elevator ride is silent as Mary tests the cuffs while trying to look as if she isn’t.

He knows later she’s going to kick him for this, but he leads her to the car and settles her into the passenger seat without removing the cuffs.

It’s funny how he can see her relax once she is sure that she’s not getting out of the cuffs. Mary is all fight and bravado and heart. She doesn’t give up control easily, and rarely wants to anyway. Usually he’s the one who ends up in the handcuffs.

At his apartment, he walks her up the stairs with a hand on her back in case she stumbles. This is Mary, though, so she makes it to the front door with nary a misstep.

He sits her down on one of his kitchen chairs, and kneels in front of her to untie her shoes and remove them. The pants come next, and then her underwear.

Marshall motions for her to stand, and she does. He stands her against a wall, and unlocks the cuffs to pull her shirt up and off. He unhooks her bra, something tan and boring, and lets it fall to the floor. It’s just another reminder that this isn’t what she planned on doing this morning.

Once naked, he leads her to the bed and motions her up and on it. “You still good with this?” he asks. He knows Mary will snark at him later, remind him that she has a safeword and that he doesn’t have ask every fucking time (her words have invaded his brain); he asks anyway.

“Good,” she says, and rubs her cheek against his hand, like an over affectionate cat. “Come on.”

“Not yet,” he says, “I’ll be right back.”

When he returns, supplies in hand, Mary has gone from sitting on the edge of the bed to kneeling on the end. He’s sure she was trying to peak down the hall. Even exhausted and full of anger, Mary can’t help but want to spoil any surprise.

“Ribbons and EMT shears?” she asks, once he lays them out on the bed, clearly confused.

“Patience, padawan.”

She rolls her eyes, but is distracted from further comment by his fingers rolling her nipple between them. She pouts when he stops.

“Stay just like that,” he says, and goes back to the ribbon

Marshall winds the ribbon around her arms, over her chest, looping around and through. This part is for him, the slow build, the meticulous detail of keeping the ribbon flat and neat without cutting off circulation, the teasing, slow build as he brushes the ribbons across Mary’s skin and she responds with in drawn breaths and soft noises. As Mary's skin disappears, so does her agitation.

The last bit of ribbon he uses to tie back her hair.

Marshall stands back, and observes, as he slowly removes the rest of his clothing. By the time he is completely naked, Mary is starting to fidget.

“Marshall, touch me,” she says, and he likes to think that this is a tone of voice she saves for him, low and sleepy and commanding all at the same time. She may let him tie her up, but even now, she’s the one calling the shots.  
He sits, cross-legged, in front of her, and runs his index fingers over the pattern of the ribbon, letting his finger slip under the ribbon to trace the hidden skin there. He lets his left hand rest on her thigh, close enough to tease, but far enough to offer no real satisfaction, and leans in to kiss her. Mary kisses back, hard and fierce, her tongue battling for dominance with his. He lets her in, lets her take over the kiss, and losses himself in the clash.

He slips his fingers down between her legs, and she moans into his mouth. He knows that he has less than a minute before she says, “Really, Marshall, can you just fuck me now? This might be hotter than most modern art, but I want to get off.” So he removes his fingers over Mary’s protesting groans, and shifts them both until Mary is leaning against the headboard.

A minute was perhaps, too optimistic. “Marshall, come on. Use those scissors of yours so that I can fuck you,” she says.

“Not quite yet,” he says, laying down on his stomach.

“Not yet?” she says, and then breaks off and his tongue makes contact with her clit.

“Okay, not yet,” she gets out between breaths. He works as her breathing speeds and her legs start to tremor beneath his hands.

She comes under his tongue, and once she’s calmed, he rests his head on her thigh. “Good?” he asks, his most cheeky smile firmly in place.

“Mmm, yes,” she replies. “Now cut me lose so I can fuck you into the mattress,” she says.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, grinning still, and does as she commands.


End file.
